


Warmth

by Adex



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Daemon Touching, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic, First Kiss, I am NOT RESPONSIBLE for one John Parry's actions, I'm sorry Sayan, M/M, One Shot, Shamanought, She needs more love, Strangers to Lovers, maybe? idk, surprising lack of Sayan Kötör, yeehaw hat dad and magic shaman dad are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adex/pseuds/Adex
Summary: Lee Scoresby and John Parry share several tender moments on the balloon.
Relationships: John Parry/Lee Scoresby
Comments: 34
Kudos: 154
Collections: John Parry and Lee Scoresby





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling that Lee Scoresby and John Parry (Johnlee? Parsby? Shamanought?) are going to be the big ship come HDM Season Two, considering some scenes between them in the books. (I would say Balthamos and Baruch, but that really depends on if we have to wait another year before seeing them tbh) So I decided to jump on the bandwagon before it's even started rolling!
> 
> (Also, I do not remember what the balloon looks like in the show. At the time of writing, only S1 is out and I don't have the motivation to comb through it as well as write the fic. Take or leave my image of a tent pitched in a basket underneath a massive balloon.)
> 
> -Adex

Lee's still riding the high of finding Dr Grumman, fooling the Magisterium, and getting up in the air all in one afternoon. Hester's running about like a wild thing and jumping about on the rigging before coming back to rest on him before leaping back around again. He watches her, laughing, perched on the basket edge and enjoying the howling wind biting his face.

'We got 'em good, Hester!' he says when she comes back up to his shoulder.

'I'd rather say you did,' comes the voice of Dr Grumman from the tent. Lee grabs the pole it's pitched on and swings around it, clutching Hester to his chest. What little sunlight that seeps through the tent fabric helps him make out the silhouette of Grumman buried under a heap of furs and blankets.

'You comfy, Mr Jopari?' Lee laughs, still swaying off the pole. 'Need all that extra warmth for your Shaman magic, huh?'

Grumman laughs with him, head tilted back, hand resting on his osprey dæmon’s head. 'Not particularly, no,' he says, 'but all this wind and popping ears takes a little getting used to.'

'Amen to that,' Lee grins, hopping off the pole and onto the furs. 'So,' he says, 'shaman, huh? Would've thought a Doctor wouldn't dare try heresy.'

'I'm not from this world, Mr Scoresby.'

It takes him aback, truth be told. Yeah, sure, Lee logically _knows_ that the man isn't from around here - he explained it only a few hours ago - but it hits different now, it hits different when he knows he's safe in his balloon. _Wow_. A man from another world and Lee's lying in the same bed as him!

Wait.

That didn't come out right.

'I guess you ain't,' Lee says, softer now that he and Hester aren't goofing around like they was. 'Hazarding a guess, here, but I'll say they ain't so uptight 'bout the Authority back at yours.'

Grumman 'hm's. 'There were many who fought in the name of one God or another,' he reveals, scratching his dæmon's feathers. 'When I left, my country wasn't quite as forceful about it as it was, but faith is etched into our history and I doubt it will ever leave. I never believed in a God, yet when I married I married in a church.'

Lee's nodding his head sluggishly in time with the slow rhythm of Grumman's words. His eyes are drooping. Come to think of it, he hasn't slept in at least a day; searching for a man who doesn't want to be found will do that to you. Grumman's noticed. His hand is reaching for Lee, thumb brushing over his shoulderblade as he softly shakes some alertness into him.

'You're tiring, Mr Scoresby. May I? I'm sure I can summon up a strong wind for an hour or few,' the man says. Lee's eyes are fluttering closed too soon, his head nodding with too much haste, Hester already asleep on his stomach.

He vaguely feels a beak grooming his hair as he slips beneath consciousness.

When he wakes up, the sky's darkened outside and the last rays of sunset slip through the tent flap. It's colder now the sun isn't dusting warmth on his bare face to provide relief from the high-air chill. Lee gathers a fur around his shoulders and steps outside the tent, careful not to trip over the train that follows him.

The sun's half-dipped below the horizon, turning the ice below a blushing pink. Grumman's leaning towards it over the basket edge his dæmon’s perched on and its rays highlight his tousled hair so the black looks more brown and the grey looks more silver. Lee walks up next to him and leans a safe distance away, staring out at the same sunset together.

'Beautiful, huh?' Lee says, Hester scampering to his hat's crown to take a good look. You only ever saw these sunsets in the North where the skies never clouded and the bitter bite of cold crept into your bones and stayed there.

'It is,' Grumman says next to him. Lee turns to look and the shaman stares back at him, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. 'If we keep these winds up, we should see a new sunset in just a day.'

Lee whistles. 'A day, huh. Never thought I'd see any which place outside of Texas, but here I am, aëronaut and all, travelling to a new world.’

Grumman 'hm's again, the wind picking up a little with his musings. His dæmon’s pressed against him on his other side, her head hiding underneath her feathers. 'You know,' he says slowly, 'you have a beautiful soul, Mr Scoresby.'

Lee freezes as Hester laughs from on top his hat. 'Why thank you for the compliment, Dr Shaman,' she drawls. 'Much appreciated.'

For the first time in the few hours Lee's known him, Grumman seems a little flustered. Or maybe the pink tinge rising in his cheeks is just from the freezing cold rooting itself in any exposed flesh it can find. 'John,' he says. 'You - you should call me John.'

'Long as you call me Lee,' Lee goes, poking his hand from under his fur for a handshake. Dr Grumman's - John's - hand is warmer than his. Probably thanks to that witchy thing he's got going for him. Lee can feel every hard-won callous as it slides into his before sliding back out again. Once it's over, they return to silence, still watching the sunset.

'I'm worried,' Dr John murmurs, barely loud enough for Lee to hear him. 'There are these creatures that feast on souls and dæmons. Spectres, I believe they're called.'

Well. That didn't sound all too good.

'Will Lyra be safe?' Lee says softly. If she's out there, if she's alive, if Pan's with her... and those Spectres are with her too... Well. He doesn't want to think about it.

John blows out a long sigh. 'I can't know. I am not a god, Mr Scoresby-'

'Lee.'

'Lee. I'm only a shaman and a shoddy one at that when you compare me to those who've trained all their life. But I have a son, Lee, who I know is with the girl. I'll lose as much as you.'

It hangs between them, an ugly fact of life, that they have everything to gain and everything to lose. But it comforts Lee somewhat that the man he met mere hours ago will help him keep his Lyra unharmed.

'You really do have a beautiful soul,' John says again. 'I don't want to see it gone.'

It hits Lee that he may die. He may die with Dr Stanislas Grumman - John Parry - next to him in another world looking for Lyra Belaqua. And... And the strange thing is, he's ready. As long as wherever he goes he ends up with Hester, he doesn't mind all too much.

Suddenly, he feels a pleasantly intimate touch caress against his insides to make everything feel warm and stable. It's raw, it's powerful, it weakens and strengthens him and leaves him all exposed and vulnerable. Almost not daring to see, Lee looks to his left and sees Hester preening as John's index finger grazes her fur.

'You know,' Lee pants, a little out of breath, 'it's a little overwhelming, havin' your so-called beautiful soul be touched by someone else.'

John's finger lifts as a finger lifts from a fire. 'I apologise,' he says. 'I'm still unused to the customs; among my tribe, well...'

Lee finds himself _missing_ the soft touch of John's hand on Hester, even as he cradles her against his chest. He remembers how, in a fight, a drunk managed to get ahold of her and he felt defiled and wrong and _unclean_. But John grazing Hester with the lightest of touches... That hadn't felt wrong. Startling, sure, but not wrong. His hand tightens its hold on the basket edge, caught in a white-knuckled grip.

The sun's almost fallen out of the sky but it hangs on, squeezing some golden light out of its last minutes on the edge of the world. The water chopping and rising below the balloon is inky-black now, as if anything may leap from it.

John shifts beside him. 'I'm going to bed,' he says. 'Your turn on the balloon.'

'Goodnight,' Lee says, turning to face him and kissing his cheek on instinct.

Both men freeze.

'Uhhh...' Lee fumbles. It seemed natural after feeling so _naked_ with John brushing against Hester, John caressing his soul with such gentleness. Compared to that, what was a peck on the cheek?

'Again?' John asks, reaching for Lee across the respectable distance they've made for each other. Lee nods and kisses him again on the lips. His heart races against John's own and they hold themselves there, intoxicated with the other's taste and feel and smell, before breaking apart to rest their foreheads together. Lee tingles at every point that John presses against him - his arm, his knee, his face...

They have only the moon and the stars to see by now.

'I should really go to bed,' John murmurs, caressing Lee's cheek. Lee kisses him again, drinking the other in as much as he can. Both lips are chapped with cold and John's nose is like ice where it presses against his skin.

With one last peck, Lee pulls away. 'Goodnight, John Parry,' he croaks.

'Goodnight, Lee Scoresby.'

Lee's on his own again, Hester pattering her way to the basket edge. The kiss - the _kisses_ \- swim in his mind as he checks the gas and the sandbags. Sure, their noses bumped around a little, and Lee's hat had almost been knocked off, but the way they fit together for those few moments still sends a thrill down his spine thinking about it now.

'Wow,' Hester says from the basket edge, a teasing lilt to her drawl. 'That was something, huh? Feeling a little flustered, Lee?'

Lee doesn't care to answer; despite the Northern night's chill, he feels warm inside.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no responsibility for one John Parry's actions. Sorry if it seems a bit dub-con... Still happy I managed to complete this over two days, however sleep-deprived I am now!
> 
> Kudos and comments are love.
> 
> -Adex


End file.
